


Prophet of Dusk

by Trainer_Amy



Series: Naga's Lore [6]
Category: Flight Rising
Genre: The Rogues - Freeform, the soul smokers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-24
Updated: 2019-05-24
Packaged: 2020-03-13 19:52:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 8,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18947707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trainer_Amy/pseuds/Trainer_Amy
Summary: All the subclans come together to face their greatest threat yet - a Guardian whose charge is the end of the world.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Cross-posted from tumblr. Original posts: https://ominouspotato.tumblr.com/tagged/prophet+of+dusk/chrono

There’s a moment, when you’re facing the end, when you realize that there was once a beginning. You didn’t know then that it was the beginning because it was not yet a story, just a cluster of coincidental happenings. There were dragons all around that saw the end, rapidly approaching with a fearsome roar, but few knew of the beginning.

This is the beginning.

*

[Prophet](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Fflightrising.com%2Fmain.php%3Fdragon%3D20677201&t=NWE4ZDMwYjg0MzJiMjY2YmNkZDE2MDc4NDRjYjg2YzMxNzE3NGEzYiw1OUFiTVdLZQ%3D%3D&b=t%3A5oAdtInnFTRQVU0-95271w&p=https%3A%2F%2Fominouspotato.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F140004704785%2Ftheres-a-moment-when-youre-facing-the-end-when&m=1) was a Water Guardian, his lineage sculpted from the Tidelord’s own hand, his parents’ clan residing in the Spiral Keep itself. His clan was affluent; or, at least, the treasure changed hands easily and flowed with the currents and the Maren around them. He was raised with two goals in mind: becoming a great oracle, and finding a Charge.

He achieved both at once.

As a hatchling, he was timid. He suffered from frequent nightmares, the Tidelord’s moans piercing his sleeping thoughts. He dreamt, always the same, of horrific weather events, of eyes turned black and soulless, of giant creatures rising from the deeps to swallow him in their gaping maws.

He was friendless; too: too intimidated to begin his Search, he was rejected by the other Guardians of the clan, treated as a freak for his disinterest. He still deeply loved his clan and longed to fit in. He tried to take interest in other dragons, pretend to have Charges, but they would inevitably fall by the wayside, forgotten.

It was a wandering nomad, an old Guardian made more of skin and bones than flesh, who enlightened the young dragon. He attracted the hatchlings from their lairs with toys and flashing loot; he proclaimed and he shook and put on a show; he shivered and pointed to a young Chargeless Guardian in the crowd,

_You there! You could become great and powerful, if only you learn to love. And love will bring you great power, and respect! And the respect you possess will earn you greater still…_

And as the wet nurses shushed their wide-eyed hatchlings inside, still eyeing him with distrust and now something new, fear; and as the warriors roared the old bag of bones away from their territories; and as the nightmares came again more frequently and urgently, calling him into the cascade of events that would dictate his destiny; a spark was lit.

He faced the fearsome beast in his nightmare. He stood his ground, and he understood the nomad oracle’s rantings. He felt a blossom of love when he looked at the creature: if he harnessed it, he would gain the respect he deserved; his Charge was worth protecting more than any other Guardian’s. He understood: his Charge did not exist yet, but he would begin his Search, calling it into existence. And when he did, he would be unstoppable.

A plan began to hatch in his mind, and he brooded quietly over it into young adulthood.


	2. Chapter 2

The moon hung low in the clouded sky as [the sandy tundra](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Fflightrising.com%2Fmain.php%3Fdragon%3D20657662&t=ODMzYzEwYmVmNjdhZDJiMThkNGZhNzYwOGI1Yzk4MjlhYzVlZTAwNywweG11SXdtcg%3D%3D&b=t%3A5oAdtInnFTRQVU0-95271w&p=https%3A%2F%2Fominouspotato.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F140243590345%2Fprophet-of-dusk-prologue-1-2-3-4&m=1) waited atop a craggy dune. He picked his teeth with a carefully sharpened claw and cast his eye thoughtfully over his domain. A storm was coming, he thought, but when was a storm not coming? This was the Carrion Canyon, after all. More importantly, his business associate was late. He knew Water dragons to be dramatic, but he couldn’t help but think that maybe [the Guardian](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Fflightrising.com%2Fmain.php%3Fdragon%3D20677201&t=YmM0ZDlmMzZmOTc1ODhkMGQwYjNiZGM4ZDcwMTRmN2JlZDZlMTgyYSwweG11SXdtcg%3D%3D&b=t%3A5oAdtInnFTRQVU0-95271w&p=https%3A%2F%2Fominouspotato.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F140243590345%2Fprophet-of-dusk-prologue-1-2-3-4&m=1) had succumbed to the horrors of the hills - namely, a dragon like himself.

The Guardian had been crafty in seeking his assistance. A caravan full of treasure had come rolling through Keet’s domain, and he never turned down an easy profit. The caravan had trudged along, pulled by two Iridescent Scalebacks snarling and straining at the reins. Meant to discourage highwaymen, no doubt. At the top of the caravan perched a large, leathery-winged fae with mottled green and brown markings and a small fez, a careful eye on the beasts pulling his wares. Under the flap of the caravan Keet could see a pile of junk, of little worth to him: crimson silks and raven filigree, silver ore and boxes of writhing cobras. But under that - a small grin crept up his face. Under the wares was the glint of treasure.

He had jumped down from his hidden alcove, loping alongside his trusty charger. He locked eyes with his familiar, and with a slight tip of the head they passed the caravan on either side, circling around and cutting it off at the front. The Scalebacks lashed their tails as Keet reared up, his wings pulsating fiery colours. He let out a roar that claimed the caravan as his own, and glanced at the fae. Usually at this point the robbed would flee for their lives and leave him the spoils.

But the fae looked calmly at his display and gave a little yawn. “Bandit Keet, I presume?”

Keet faltered, and the fae took that as his cue to continue. “I come with a message. A Guardian going by the name of Prophet wishes to hire your services. This is only a portion of the payment you will receive.” He flew to the flap and gathered his wares, transferring them to a pouch attached to one of the Scalebacks. He unhitched the caravan and perched atop the other’s back. “He will meet you here at midnight.”

As the fae rode back the way he had come, Keet glanced into the caravan and whistled. Prophet, whoever he was, sure knew how to make an offer.

* * *

Keet was just about to give up waiting for Prophet to arrive, content with an easy sum, when a shadow moved behind him. He jumped slightly, and was immediately annoyed with himself. He was king of these lands! But the Guardian was more than four times his size, and a little intimidating, he had to admit. There was a certain intentional spooky aesthetic he had going for him, Keet admitted as he eyeballed the huge dragon.

“So… you want to hire a bandit, eh? Pulling off a heist?”

“Not exactly.” Prophet’s voice was low and deep, not someone you’d want to meet in a back alley. Which was a little annoying, because that was the impression that Keet tried to make for himself. Pfft, Guardians. Always overachievers.

“I want you to locate a Guardian who wanders this desert. He is heavily tattooed. Bring him to me but do not lay a claw on him.”

“Yah want me to bring you a  _Guardian_ without fighting him? How am I supposed to pull that off?”

“That is not my concern. I have the payment. You have the means.”

The amount of treasure that Prophet pushed towards him made Keet’s eyes bulge slightly.

“Alright, I think I might be able to handle that. Who’s this Guardian, anyhow?”

Prophet hesitated, the moonlight turning him as silver as a dagger. “He calls himself… Dusk.”


	3. Chapter 3

 

The sun was shining, the breeze was blowing, and the Sea of a Thousand Currents was throwing waves that sloshed gently against the side of the ship. Some prisoners were being battle-trained on deck, slashing through piles of leaves and blocks of wood. A couple were meditating together and then taking turns Contusing each other. With a full boatload, [Quicksilver](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Fflightrising.com%2Fmain.php%3Fp%3Dlair%26id%3D2740%26tab%3Ddragon%26did%3D2170063&t=ZDBkZTczYTU5ZDFiZDI2ZjE2NTEzNTdlOGEzNjI3ZjQ5MWQyNzQyYSw4MnNZRkhBMQ%3D%3D&b=t%3A5oAdtInnFTRQVU0-95271w&p=https%3A%2F%2Fominouspotato.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F140574473575%2Fprophet-of-dusk-prologue-1-2-3-4-5-6&m=1) had made the decision to head towards Clan Naga and get these younglings ready for a life of servitutde with the Lightweaver.

All in all, it was a pretty perfect day.

That is, until the fighting began.

He heard it before he saw it, a piercing roar and the sloshing of waves on the port side. “All hands on deck!” he roared, bounding up to the top deck. Stormflash banked hard to starboard, the tail groaning as the heavy defenses on the back end creaked against the current. Spitfire’s long form emerged from the bunkies, Amazon tightening his battle gear straps and preparing her own weapons. Phantom and Rydian emerged from the kitchen wielding metal spatulas.

A large shape broke the surface of the water, and the crew relaxed.

“Ocean! Why’d ye fuss?”

“You have a visitor,” she replied coldly. “He interrupted my date.”

Quicksilver noticed a dark blue Guardian in the water behind her. He suppressed a grin at the imperial he was so fond of and instead gave the order to stand down. There was much bustling on the ship as Spitfire returned to his nap, the cooks returned to the galley, and several exaltees emerged cautiously from behind the mast.

“Your crew is quite loyal to you,” the visitor said, raising himself out of the water enough that Quicksilver could speak to him.

“They’re the best a capt’n could ask fer.”

“And you treat your prisoners quite well.”

“Trained ‘n’ prepared for their first Dominance battle.”

“What if I made you an offer?” The guardian flashed a pouch of gems and treasure. “I’ll pay you more for these dragons than the Lightweaver can.”

Quicksilver scratched his chin. “Hrm, I’unno. With the Lightweaver an’ the Plaguebringer at each other’s throats, the payouts’ve been good.”

“I’ll pay five times what they will.”

The captain’s eyes widened, and a lopsided grin broke his face. “You got yerself a deal.”

“I will need one hundred dragons delivered to the Hewn City by nightfall in two days’ time.”

Quicksilver whipped towards the exaltees, who had stopped to curiously listen. “Well?! Get back to training!”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter-specific cws: dragon death, slight gore, blood

[The male](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Fflightrising.com%2Fmain.php%3Fdragon%3D17566549&t=NmM3ZDNmYjExNDgyNjkzZjkwNjBlN2UyOTcyOGI0ODc0MWFmYjBmOSxMbVFPV2dyag%3D%3D&b=t%3A5oAdtInnFTRQVU0-95271w&p=https%3A%2F%2Fominouspotato.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F140668071370%2Fprophet-of-dusk-prologue-1-2-3&m=1) was gaunt, his eyes sunken deep into the recesses of his skull. The wind howled, throwing clouds of sand at his tattooed body. He had seen the map on his legs and wings so many times that the patterns seemed like home to him. They were his only home, he reminded himself, walking forward. If he ever stopped moving and settled down, somebody would find him. Secrets would be spilled. Chaos would reign.

He missed his family. The hatchlings would have grown up by now.

Did he resent the guilds, who took him in, used his body for a canvas, and tossed him out again? Sometimes. There was the quiet satisfaction in guarding the secrets, carrying his Charge around on his own body. But the aches every time he saw his mate, cast out from the Hewn City just like him, suffering quietly and in a way he could not help her, were almost unbearable. If he shared the secrets with her, she could recover. But the cost of revealing those secrets was too great.

So he wandered.

And, most of the time, nobody found him.

Until today.

* * *

[Rune](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Fflightrising.com%2Fmain.php%3Fdragon%3D17731940&t=ZWE4MmY0NmE1NmYwMTQ1N2MxN2JkOTVlMDkyNTQ2MTJkNDFlZDExMixMbVFPV2dyag%3D%3D&b=t%3A5oAdtInnFTRQVU0-95271w&p=https%3A%2F%2Fominouspotato.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F140668071370%2Fprophet-of-dusk-prologue-1-2-3&m=1) poured the liquid steadily into a beaker, muttering quietly to herself. This would be the day she cured herself, and she overcame the Light that burned fiercely inside her. Her mind wandered past the pain and into a taboo territory: she imagined herself able to sleep soundly, to have perfect control over her own actions, and maybe - just maybe - be able to feel the deep love for a Charge.

The brew turned bright orange, flashed blue, and then settled into a deep gold. She cocked an eyebrow and took a tentative sip, instantly feeling slightly refreshed. Just a health potion. Damn.

She sighed and rubbed her temple. The niggling had been especially bad today, the unseen force that occupied her body causing her to twitch unexpectedly. She felt a desire to  _go_  somewhere, but since that desire was not her own, she didn’t know her destination.

The sky was growing darker to the west, over the Hewn City. A storm was coming, bringing electricity crackling with tension. Animals were fleeing, scurrying into burrows and cracks: coral snakes and strikers, skinks and duskrats and even the ermines that ate them, and, on the horizon –

She only knew one Sunbeam Ursa, and to see it loping at full tilt gave her a bad feeling. She approached it as fast as she could, her legs being surprisingly cooperative despite the ache. She got close enough to see the unique pattern of blotches on its face to mark it as her mate’s, and the feeling turned into all-out panic. The Ursa turned and went back the way it had come when it saw she was following, and she hobbled past dunes and crags until she saw a small huddled figure on the ground.

“Dusk!” she shrieked. There was so much blood. The sand around him was soaked a dark burgundy. With a wave of disgust, she realized his wings were gone. He stirred feebly at the sound of his name, one bloodshot yellow eye cracking open.

“What - what have they do to you?” He was so fragile - so broken.

“Rune.” It was barely a whisper, carried away by the strengthening wind.

She fished the accidental health potion from her breastplate, hoping, hoping. She poured it into his mouth, little by little, but he let it mostly dribble out. His eyes were glassy. Too late, too late, always too late. She put the beaker down, lying her face next to his on the ground.

“They took my wings.”

“I know, my love. Be still.”

“My body is a map. My wings are instructions. They’re going to…” He coughed, his ribs visible and shuddering underneath his stretched and scarred hide. “…bring destruction and death. And I was too weak to stop them.” He gazed blankly towards the darkening skies over the Hewn City. It wasn’t a storm. They had begun, the Tundra who ambushed and disabled him and the Guardian who had taken his wings, a ritual which the guilds had discovered and hidden long ago, to empower a great force long thought banished.

The Shade.

“I wanted them to do it,” Dusk whispered. He looked with clear eyes at his mate. “You can be free.”

“Stay with me,” Rune whispered hoarsely, flakes of sand clinging to her damp cheeks. The Ursa sat quietly next to its dragon, to whom it had grown loyal in the past months. It knew. Dusk himself knew.

“How are the… hatchlings?”

She laughed around the tears. “Not hatchlings anymore. They grew up with tales of their father who did what he did because it was right.” She stroked his cheek as a thundercrack broke the air. Her voice cracked. “I should have protected you.”

“I was… not your Charge. But… you can…” His chest rattled emptily, and then was still.

The pain burned brightly in her, and she cursed the Light, cursed the guilds, cursed Dusk himself for leaving her behind. She felt like she was splitting, the Light pulling her strongly towards the Hewn City, forcing her to rise to her feet, to leave her mate for the crows that were slowly circling overhead. She trained her eyes ahead as she stumbled onwards, only knowing one thing for certain: 

She had to get to the city.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter-specific cws: body horror (Ghostlight Ruins)

 

With a heavy slice of his sword and a grunt, the Wraith Hound let out a final howl before dissipating, leaving no more behind than a Mirror-like skull and a few ribs. With a wordless sigh, [Haunt](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Fflightrising.com%2Fmain.php%3Fdragon%3D17664522&t=NTRhMGJjMTJiZDBhZjk0Y2I0MjljYjFiZjlkZWU0YTIwNTM5NjE3OCxURER1WjBBMQ%3D%3D&b=t%3A5oAdtInnFTRQVU0-95271w&p=https%3A%2F%2Fominouspotato.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F140947332840%2Fprophet-of-dusk-prologue-1-2-3-4&m=1) put the skull in the pocket of what had once been his silks, in a past life. It accompanied the others, giving a quiet rattle as another Aer Phantom attempted to occupy it. Haunt shooed it away with a frown.

He now had a large collection of skulls, bones, and other unfortunate mementos, all of which he intended to give a proper burial to as soon as he could. The problem with this plan was that he had to battle in increasingly long runs. It was his duty to make sure that the dead stayed dead, that nothing reanimated their corpses and shambled with skeletal legs.

But the Ruins were becoming terribly haunted.

He had been drawn by rumours to the Hewn City, widow’s tales of creatures from nightmares who suddenly became real under a stormcloud that didn’t go away. Auras filled with roughly assembled bones; vultures that looked like carrion themselves; the haunted eyes of tengu, ignoring the talonok that called to them. He had cut them down, and carefully collected what remained, but there was a steady flow of more and more. So many, in fact, that local clans had dubbed this area the “Ghostlight Ruins”.

This activity had not gone unnoticed. Soul Smokers from around Sornieth had immigrated quickly, hoping to make a quick buck from the abundance of available potential wisps. One particularly altruistic Skydancer, [Ex](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Fflightrising.com%2Fmain.php%3Fdragon%3D16129172&t=ZjVkNmJiMDFhYzAxMGFjODQyMTdmNjM5NGM2OTgxODY5NDFhZGVkZSxURER1WjBBMQ%3D%3D&b=t%3A5oAdtInnFTRQVU0-95271w&p=https%3A%2F%2Fominouspotato.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F140947332840%2Fprophet-of-dusk-prologue-1-2-3-4&m=1), had been sticking close to the living-impaired Imperial for several hours: carefully smoking each soul he encountered, shuddering as he kept them within his body to release later. Haunt had heard of him, that he was an almost permanent inhabitant of the Starwood Strand, where the souls were not so mobile. He would release them outside the Strand; here, Haunt was pretty sure the souls wouldn’t be so cooperative.

Also, it was much faster to cut them down.

As for the other Soul Smokers, he had glimpsed two with whom he was familiar, both of whom made him writhe with disgust and a healthy touch of fear. There was [Manylem](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Fflightrising.com%2Fmain.php%3Fdragon%3D16197569&t=ZDk3ZjgwMjFjZjJhMWY0YjdkOTAzZjUyNDM1NGM4Y2JmZGVjNmM5NCxURER1WjBBMQ%3D%3D&b=t%3A5oAdtInnFTRQVU0-95271w&p=https%3A%2F%2Fominouspotato.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F140947332840%2Fprophet-of-dusk-prologue-1-2-3-4&m=1), his former mistress, who had held him in mindless captivity until an unpopular ally had helped him escape, ripping her teeth and claws into the wraiths and smoking them by force; and there was [Corpal](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Fflightrising.com%2Fmain.php%3Fdragon%3D16903080&t=MTYzNjQ2M2FmZDI5ZTUzNjIxY2U0MmMzNjJjNzJlZWFjZmY1MDFmYyxURER1WjBBMQ%3D%3D&b=t%3A5oAdtInnFTRQVU0-95271w&p=https%3A%2F%2Fominouspotato.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F140947332840%2Fprophet-of-dusk-prologue-1-2-3-4&m=1), the dragon who had first taken Haunt’s life and dignity, allowing his Mirror pack to do the same while standing coolly away from the violence. Haunt had seen a large blue Guardian, conspicuous against the grey background, talking to each of them in low urgent whispers, though he could not discern what they were saying.

Haunt, sensing an absence of monsters in his immediate vicinity - including Ex, strangely - headed outside the Ruins, towards the sea, although the sky did not get any lighter; the cloud, if that’s what it was, spanned the entirety of the Hewn City. He buried each skull or bone with care, bowing his head carefully for a moment over each fresh mound, and sighed.

The sea was more jaunty, all manner of creatures and Maren inhabiting its depths, even a majestic ship at a nearby Sunbeam Ruins port. In his youth he had heard tales of the Sea’s pirates and their dashing adventures, and the fearsome monsters said to live in its depths.

But that was a past life, one to which Haunt could not return. He raised his head and turned back towards the gloom, leaving a neat row of freshly turned graves in his wake.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Headcanon: Tundras keep track of days of the year by giving each day a special theme. Themes depend on a combination of upcoming festivals, seasons, and dominating deities.

 

**15th day of Lunar Phase 11, Day of Dark Whispers**

[I](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Fflightrising.com%2Fmain.php%3Fdragon%3D9536273&t=Y2YwNmU3MDBiNzAzNWY2ZTc5NWRmNTliZTU5MWFmOTY2ZjZiNzk3NSxzdFh1ekpxdw%3D%3D&b=t%3A5oAdtInnFTRQVU0-95271w&p=https%3A%2F%2Fominouspotato.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F141401024115%2Fprophet-of-dusk-prologue-1-2-3-4-5&m=1) met [Sentinel ](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Fflightrising.com%2Fmain.php%3Fdragon%3D2125124&t=YTM4ZWIzOTkxODBmOWE2ZGRiMzQxZTkyNWZjNWU1ZDBiZTk3YzI1ZSxzdFh1ekpxdw%3D%3D&b=t%3A5oAdtInnFTRQVU0-95271w&p=https%3A%2F%2Fominouspotato.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F141401024115%2Fprophet-of-dusk-prologue-1-2-3-4-5&m=1)outside the pocket today for our daily lessons. Chaos magic is always tiring, but Sentinel has been pushing me hard lately. For the first time in my studies, I thought that dragons weren’t meant to tamper with the laws of the universe. I don’t know where that thought came from. We are making the clan Safe.

I hope.

Sentinel seems distracted as well. He smells like old magic and kinship, the old smell from long ago, but also of worry, of longing. I have not smelled that on him in a long time. He looks towards the south, where a cloud lingers over the Hewn City, dark and rolling and smelling of… something that I don’t like to think about. The soil feels different too, even if I’m more used to Shadow magic. Something is in the air that makes my fur prickle.

I’m getting better at Chaos magic. I can hold the portal open long enough for [Vortex](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Fflightrising.com%2Fmain.php%3Fdragon%3D2018412&t=MjNmNWQyZjU2Nzc3Njg4YjUzMTc0ODQzNjgzM2M0NzgwZmRlYjYwNixzdFh1ekpxdw%3D%3D&b=t%3A5oAdtInnFTRQVU0-95271w&p=https%3A%2F%2Fominouspotato.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F141401024115%2Fprophet-of-dusk-prologue-1-2-3-4-5&m=1) to walk through, if I concentrate a lot. Sentinel doesn’t walk through when I do it. He says it’s just in case I can’t open it again, but I smell his fear, and his lie. I don’t call him on it.

**16th day of Lunar Phase 11, Day of Lost Tricks**

When I left the pocket today, we were outside of our usual territory. The Hewn City loomed just across a small river, and the sun was blocked by the Cloud. I’m convinced it’s not what it seems. The air was sticky, and my fur was prickly again. I couldn’t concentrate, and Sentinel was easily frustrated. Considering his usual apathy, I’m a little concerned. He’s restless, and moved us without warning halfway through our session. Vortex came through the portal and he shrugged her off. She reacted badly. They’re not speaking to each other.

The progress I made yesterday is gone. I tried to focus and grab for the points of energy on our auras, but something – I don’t even want to write it. Something was  _already there_. I went home early and sat with Lume by the river. It was sunny. It’s always sunny inside the pocket. But I can’t help but think of the darkness that’s outside.

**17th day of Lunar Phase 11, Day of Eternal Twilight**

When I woke up this morning, I knew something changed. I didn’t know what at first, but then I noticed the cloud.

It wasn’t sunny in the pocket.

Pup, the only hatchling in the clan besides our own - for a long time now, Lume and I have been the only nesters in the pocket - noticed it first. He is a Tundra like me, and as soon as he said that the sunshine smelled funny I understood. Appropriate for the Day, it’s not quite night, but not the sunshine we’re used to. My coat was fluffed all the way up and I couldn’t get it to sit back down.

Leaving the pocket was hard today. I usually walk into the forest and Sentinel lets me out, and the forest clears into wherever we are - wherever Sentinel carries us. Today I walked into the forest and apparently all around the bubble, ending up back at the lair. This happened two or three times until I finally tried to open a portal for myself.

Sentinel was sitting and looking up at the Hewn City. I don’t know when we crossed the river. He didn’t answer me when I asked. He didn’t say anything. He opened a portal, shoved me back into the pocket, and sealed it shut I think. I can’t find the energy points. I can’t do anything but write it down and hope I don’t forget this later under the dark dark sky.

**18th day of Lunar Phase 11, Day of Moonless Night**

He.

He’s

 

All I can see are his dark dark eyes under the cowl, too dark, not the green. they once were. not the green. black.

corrupted

sentinel is gone

the outside leaked in. or the inside leaked out. we’re not. Safe anymore. the ruiNs offer shelter but I can’T put the clan back. I have, failed.

 

There is thunder outside. Lector and Vortex are keeping watch. Pup whines that he’s hungry. We’re all hungry. The pocket is gone. I found the smashed tail bauble after we stopped shaking, suddenly taking up matter in Sornieth’s plane once again.

we lost Maple. it was too much for her old body. we had to leave her behind.

The others have forgotten what the outside was like. Honeydew and Fortify are strong, but not as much as they once were. They only say we must survive.

We must

survive


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter-specific cws: violence, implied gore/blood

 

[Gante](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Fflightrising.com%2Fmain.php%3Fdragon%3D17921401&t=NDIyZmQ4OGMwMjQ1NWJmZDM5Zjc3ODVkZTE4OTUwOTZmZjNlOGU3YixzeVhnQk11cA%3D%3D&b=t%3A5oAdtInnFTRQVU0-95271w&p=https%3A%2F%2Fominouspotato.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F141679675485%2Fprophet-of-dusk-prologue-1-2-3-4-5-6&m=1) was a simple Coatl, born to a simple community in the Crystalspine Reaches without knowing his father. His plumage was somewhat duller than other Coatls, so he never attracted a mate. His name was a generic one and undesirable as his colours.

So he had no idea how he had ended up facing a monster.

When he took the actions to improve his life, he had no idea how far they would lead. He packed up his few meager belongings, travelled through the Windswept Plateau, and made himself available for hire at the port near the Reedcleft Ascent. Some sailors had taken him in, and although there was a language barrier and he was somewhat timid, he soon found himself at home.

He received frequent training sessions, either in the sea alongside a beautiful Imperial, or on deck with other temporary hires. He had been told that he was preparing to serve the Lightweaver, and he was okay with that - a new adventure, maybe. He was friendly with the crew, except a Spiral from the kitchens who apparently was not fond of any Coatl, and became stronger, an adept flier, and more confident.

He remembered when [the blue Guardian had made an appearance on the ship](http://ominouspotato.tumblr.com/post/140574473575/prophet-of-dusk-prologue-1-2-3-4-5), although he did not understand the conversation that had been exchanged. Since then, the ship had become more crowded: many other dragons, Tundras and Faes and Spirals and Pearlcatchers, had joined their ranks, and the hammocks where the crew slept quickly filled. The “exaltease”, as he had heard their group described, had to compete for the chance to sleep somewhere other than the floor.

Some short days later, the ship docked on the other side of the continent, a land covered in darkness from a cloud overhead. It was not the Tangled Wood, though - he saw that to the north. He wordlessly left the ship with his fellows - there were dozens of the exaltease at this point, all tightly moving together, a slight nervousness in the air. They ascended a near cliff, entering the ruins heavy with anticipation. Gante couldn’t see the water anymore. Their escort, [a pudgy Snapper who worked the forge](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Fflightrising.com%2Fmain.php%3Fdragon%3D10597704&t=MmZhMTlmOGNlZWVhM2M4MzRkMDNlOWI3YTAxOWY5MDJlOWIzNGI3MyxzeVhnQk11cA%3D%3D&b=t%3A5oAdtInnFTRQVU0-95271w&p=https%3A%2F%2Fominouspotato.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F141679675485%2Fprophet-of-dusk-prologue-1-2-3-4-5-6&m=1), met with the blue Guardian once again, and spoke in low voices while treasure changed hands. They were given the order to stay and wait. For what, Gante wasn’t sure.

He found out soon, as some pitiful cries were heard in the distance. A [female Guardian](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Fflightrising.com%2Fmain.php%3Fdragon%3D16197569&t=NTMyOWRjOTMxZjgxZWVjMWQ5NzAxNzMzZTA3OTA0YjcxOGQ2ZmZiMCxzeVhnQk11cA%3D%3D&b=t%3A5oAdtInnFTRQVU0-95271w&p=https%3A%2F%2Fominouspotato.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F141679675485%2Fprophet-of-dusk-prologue-1-2-3-4-5-6&m=1) approached, flanked by [a male Ridgeback](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Fflightrising.com%2Fmain.php%3Fdragon%3D16903080&t=YmI0MmEzNjAzMWY0MWRjNjNjZmM4MzA0MDU3MmI4YTdlZTMzOTZiMyxzeVhnQk11cA%3D%3D&b=t%3A5oAdtInnFTRQVU0-95271w&p=https%3A%2F%2Fominouspotato.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F141679675485%2Fprophet-of-dusk-prologue-1-2-3-4-5-6&m=1) - curiously without his nose; perhaps he had lost it in an accident - approached. The Guardian was all plush and overflowing, a stark contrast to the Ridgeback all points and angles. Together they bore [the gauntest, smallest Skydancer](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Fflightrising.com%2Fmain.php%3Fdragon%3D16129172&t=OWFiNWVhMGViNDliYmY3OTNlNDkyZGIzNjQ1MTEwNTE1MzU3MTBhNyxzeVhnQk11cA%3D%3D&b=t%3A5oAdtInnFTRQVU0-95271w&p=https%3A%2F%2Fominouspotato.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F141679675485%2Fprophet-of-dusk-prologue-1-2-3-4-5-6&m=1) Gante had ever seen, struggling limply in the larger dragons’ powerful grip.

The Guardian was triumphant, proud, and the Ridgeback had a confident sneer on his face as they approached the blue Guardian. The blue one nodded his approval, and the Skydancer was deposited on the ground, to be immediately held down by - gulp - a pack of Mirrors that giddily circled the Ridgeback.

Gante tore his gaze away, instead catching a glimpse of something that made his stomach flutter with nerves. Another [Skydancer](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Fflightrising.com%2Fmain.php%3Fdragon%3D2125124&t=YTMxMDk3OTg0MTMxODk4YzRhZTYxMjMwNGEwNWI5ZjVlZTBjZjgzYyxzeVhnQk11cA%3D%3D&b=t%3A5oAdtInnFTRQVU0-95271w&p=https%3A%2F%2Fominouspotato.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F141679675485%2Fprophet-of-dusk-prologue-1-2-3-4-5-6&m=1) - but this one felt intensely  _wrong_. His eyes were fully black, not pink like Gante’s own or the deep blue of the Guardian’s or even the dusky purple of the Ridgeback’s; his outline seemed to shimmer, not entirely corporeal or bound to a single point in space. Gante shuddered; the Coatls had a name for something this steeped in a dark magic, but he dared not utter it. And suddenly the Skydancer was gone, instantly reappearing behind the blue Guardian. He had control over it, Gante realized, and the horror of his situation dawned on him.

He was face-to-face with one of the Shaded.

With a yowl, Gante tried to make a break for it. The other exaltease -  _exaltees,_ he realized, suddenly and way too late - squirmed around him, their ordered legions breaking into chaos. With a simple nod from the Ridgeback, the Mirror pack descended. Carnage filled his vision, colours and fur flying and he panicked, taking to the air – but a claw latched onto his wing, dragged him down, and even though he was a strong Level 6 fighter now, he wasn’t strong enough –

As he lay, hardly stirring, he was aware of a blurry shape forming overhead, of a mad cackling, and of the low growl of thunder. Oh Arcanist, he hoped it was thunder. He hoped…


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter-specific cws: violence, dragon death

[Ex](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Fflightrising.com%2Fmain.php%3Fp%3Dlair%26id%3D2740%26tab%3Ddragon%26did%3D16129172&t=N2I2NmY0ZGI1MDA1YzczZWU1NGE0NjJhZWNlMjM5OGRkMjBmMjBiNyxUeVoycUQyNw%3D%3D&b=t%3A5oAdtInnFTRQVU0-95271w&p=https%3A%2F%2Fominouspotato.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F142970669420%2Fprophet-of-dusk-prologue-1-2-3-4-5-6&m=1) struggled in the grasps of the two larger dragons. He could feel the trapped souls around him, scared and confused and  _angry_ , screaming for help with their soundless breaths. He was immersed in their emotions, didn’t notice the larger dragons come up behind him, couldn’t run when he heard the poisonous seeping voice of his mentor from long ago.

“Well,  _hello_ , Ex,” [Manylem](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Fflightrising.com%2Fmain.php%3Fp%3Dlair%26id%3D2740%26tab%3Ddragon%26did%3D16197569&t=MGU2OGQxOTE0ZDhlNDU1NzQzNTRjN2I1MzE2MjM5YTk0NDc5OWNiMyxUeVoycUQyNw%3D%3D&b=t%3A5oAdtInnFTRQVU0-95271w&p=https%3A%2F%2Fominouspotato.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F142970669420%2Fprophet-of-dusk-prologue-1-2-3-4-5-6&m=1) practically purred. Her grin was false, stretching too wide for a Guardian’s face, scales plush and oozing self-content. The sharply-dressed Ridgeback beside her huffed, a couple of Mirrors lurking at a respectful distance. Ex had heard of him: [Corpal](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Fflightrising.com%2Fmain.php%3Fp%3Dlair%26id%3D2740%26tab%3Ddragon%26did%3D16903080&t=MmEyM2Q0N2Y4YTQzMTA0NWYwY2QwZDM3MGExMzJmNWNkNTM4M2M4MCxUeVoycUQyNw%3D%3D&b=t%3A5oAdtInnFTRQVU0-95271w&p=https%3A%2F%2Fominouspotato.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F142970669420%2Fprophet-of-dusk-prologue-1-2-3-4-5-6&m=1) smoked souls for profit, but created half-souled abominations, slaves to whoever held the other half of the wisp produced. He was vicious, cared nothing for the lives of others, and was merely tolerated by Manylem.

The two grabbed him, and he didn’t stand a chance. They were so much bigger, so much more insensitive to the landscape. Ex couldn’t fight. He could only struggle his face away from the stub of a former finger on Manylem’s paw.

When they carried him back to the assembled motley dragons, clustered together fearfully in the center of a snarling Mirror pack, he felt the first hint of dread. When he was pinned by a few of the Mirrors, the dread blossomed into full terror. The one by his head was riddled with scars on his dark face. His breath stank of meat.

“Move,” he snarled quietly. “Give me a reason to rip out your throat.”

Ex was too occupied to retort. He could feel, above the suffering of the trapped souls, a dark force, something his antennae quivered away from. It was a dragon, for sure, one of those Shade-touched ones. Manylem had spoken during his apprenticeship of Shade-touched dragons, especially energy-sensitive Skydancers. But Manylem had also spoken of her love and caring for him, before he managed to escape.

A screech brought him back to the present, and the chaos began.

* * *

[Sentinel](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Fflightrising.com%2Fmain.php%3Fp%3Dlair%26id%3D2740%26tab%3Ddragon%26did%3D2125124&t=YzI4N2JmNWI2NjRlNzk0NTA3MTczZTFhYjQzMTM5YTM0ZjM0ZmY2MixUeVoycUQyNw%3D%3D&b=t%3A5oAdtInnFTRQVU0-95271w&p=https%3A%2F%2Fominouspotato.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F142970669420%2Fprophet-of-dusk-prologue-1-2-3-4-5-6&m=1) watched the slaughtering emotionlessly. The huddled group of dragons, some old and weak, barely trained, were no match for the sleek muscles and teeth of the Mirror pack. He was aware of the carnage, of the outside situation, but he was strangely removed from it, a mere passenger as something else controlled his body.

The panic among the dragons was unrestrained, but the movement of the Soul Smokers was quick and efficient. The Ridgeback and Guardian had their incenses out, crouching over the dead and breathing in their essences with a glassy-eyed shudder. The Guardian, particularly, seemed to be enjoying it, finishing the job right alongside the Mirrors. As each soul was collected, the smokers quickly returned to the restrained Skydancer and breathed them into him.

The Skydancer was bucking as each Soul entered his body, barely recovering before another joined it. The voices of Coatls, Tundras, Faes - every type of dragon available, except Imperials; nobody wanted to deal with an emperor. The souls, which at their hands would normally exist as a captive Wisp, were instead being kept in a living vehicle.

Sentinel turned his head to [the blue Guardian](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Fflightrising.com%2Fmain.php%3Fdragon%3D20677201&t=ZjFmMTY0MTI4MWJjODczMmUwMTUyNTMzZDdmMjkzMzhkNzlhY2NlYyxUeVoycUQyNw%3D%3D&b=t%3A5oAdtInnFTRQVU0-95271w&p=https%3A%2F%2Fominouspotato.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F142970669420%2Fprophet-of-dusk-prologue-1-2-3-4-5-6&m=1) - or, rather, his head turned, not under his control. The Guardian was his master now, a tiny voice whispered to him. His master gave him a slight nod, and he knew what to do.

The energy within him gave a painful twist, and he began the deep incantations.

* * *

[Prophet](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Fflightrising.com%2Fmain.php%3Fdragon%3D20677201&t=ZjFmMTY0MTI4MWJjODczMmUwMTUyNTMzZDdmMjkzMzhkNzlhY2NlYyxUeVoycUQyNw%3D%3D&b=t%3A5oAdtInnFTRQVU0-95271w&p=https%3A%2F%2Fominouspotato.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F142970669420%2Fprophet-of-dusk-prologue-1-2-3-4-5-6&m=1) sat quietly amid the chaos, tail curled neatly around his paws. To his right, the dark-eyed Skydancer, radiating magic, murmured deeply, a sound that even made him shiver a little bit.

The Skydancer had not been an intentional part of his plan. That damn fool Bandit Keet injured Dusk beyond saving. It would have been useful to have the instructions on the Guardian’s body, but he had had to settle for just the wings. He had followed the instructions and summoned the Shade as his servant, though it had an agenda of its own. It drew the undead, shards of itself inhabiting the flesh, and it drew those who were susceptible to dark magic. No matter. He had a vessel now to manipulate space for him. His plan still held true.

The last inklings of life were being drained from the sacrifices, but the Soul Smokers were still hard at work. It was interesting to him how far you could convince a dragon to go with the lure of promised gold. He didn’t even need to pay them, really: once he had what he wanted, they could both easily be taken out of the picture.

The Guardian, Manylem, pushed aside some of the Mirrors, snapping the neck of a sacrifice with her own snarl. She was possibly the more vicious of the two, or at least the more hands-on. The Ridgeback, Corpal, was getting his dirty work done for him, and then carefully and tidily with not a claw out of place, he smoked a soul into the container, Ex. The smaller Skydancer, restrained at Prophet’s feet, did not seem to be holding out well; fragments of the souls’ personalities were bursting through, mostly screams and sobs and prayers made far too late. Ex would likely die from the strain, but as long as he held on for a short bit longer, Prophet couldn’t care less. He stroked a dark blue claw along the Skydancer’s narrow cheek.

In the sky, a dark rift was beginning to open. Lightning danced furiously, glowing a dark purple around the portal. Through it, Prophet could just make out the outline of his Charge. His child. The being he had been tasked to create.  _And love will bring you great power._

_the dried marrow of gargantuan bones left behind from an ancient battle in a forgotten era  
_

All water dragons knew the lore of the Fishspine Reef. Hatchlings were told that if they were naughty, the bones would assemble, would reanimate the terrible beings they once were and lie in wait for too-curious explorers. A silly tale, Prophet knew. Those great warriors would never bother with hatchlings.

The bones were evident in the rift, now, and seawater rained from the portal. Sweat was pouring down the Shade-touched Skydancer’s face, a tremble evident in his chant. Only the Shade had been capable of manipulating so much energy, and only in the Ruins where it still lurked at its strongest.

Corpal breathed the last soul into Ex, who received it with little more than a shudder. Prophet clamped a giant paw over his mouth, turning to the other Skydancer. Sentinel nodded, squeezing his eyes shut with the effort, and pulled the skeleton through the portal, holding it in midair.

Prophet hesitated. He considered telling the assembled dragons of the old visitor to the Sea, of the prophecy he was meant to fulfill and of the beauty that was about to spring forth from his efforts. He considered proclaiming to the peers of his youth that he was strong now, he was unstoppable now. But he merely released Ex and hurled him at the bones.

A dazzling flash of light sparked his retinas, followed closely by a shockwave. Sentinel was thrown to the side, the portal broken and the bones crashing down amid the old stone ruins. Prophet was vaguely aware of the bond between him and Sentinel snapping, the Skydancer hissing and streaking away, but he didn’t care. All he had eyes for was his Charge.

It was far larger than him, far larger than any dragon he had ever seen. One tattered wing dangled from the remains of what may have once been a cowl, tipped with claws as sharp as the ones on its fingerbones. It glowed faintly blue, the souls swirling around the bones. It pushed itself off the ground, slowly rising to its feet. Corpal, Manylem, and the Mirrors were still and silent.

Prophet’s grin stretched his face, and he had tears in his eyes. It was beautiful. “Hello, my love.”

It turned to him, and though it had no eyes he imagined it regarding him with love and reverence.

The last thing Prophet heard was its earth-shattering roar.

* * *

[Haunt](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Fflightrising.com%2Fmain.php%3Fp%3Dlair%26id%3D2740%26tab%3Ddragon%26did%3D17664522&t=NTkxNTkwZjcyMWJlMzYyY2ExMWMzZTAwM2I5ZDEwZDBhYzFhMzQ1NCxUeVoycUQyNw%3D%3D&b=t%3A5oAdtInnFTRQVU0-95271w&p=https%3A%2F%2Fominouspotato.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F142970669420%2Fprophet-of-dusk-prologue-1-2-3-4-5-6&m=1) had finally tracked down his missing colleague, Ex, and had witnessed the terrible sacrifice and soul smoking. He was repulsed, but didn’t interfere: it was one thing to take on the undead, quite another to take on twenty dragons who could tear him apart easily. So he only watched with increasing horror as the Water Guardian rebelled from the natural order of life and death.

Luckily, they were preoccupied enough with the appearance of the giant undead spirit creature that he could drag Ex to the sidelines. Ex was badly injured, but Haunt had to reassess his priorities: with a roar loud enough to make his bones vibrate, the spirit unhinged its jaw and let loose a beam of blinding light. Haunt blinked a few times - there was nothing left of the Guardian, totally vaporized, and the other dragons were thrown into a full panic.

Haunt gripped the handle of his sword. He was going to need backup for this one.

* * *

“Ahhhhhhhhh!”

[Quicksilver](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Fflightrising.com%2Fmain.php%3Fp%3Dlair%26id%3D2740%26tab%3Ddragon%26did%3D2170063&t=YTAwMmY1ZTJkZTZkNzJkZTAyZTY0MTIwOTRhODM0ZDQ2NjQ3OTcwNSxUeVoycUQyNw%3D%3D&b=t%3A5oAdtInnFTRQVU0-95271w&p=https%3A%2F%2Fominouspotato.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F142970669420%2Fprophet-of-dusk-prologue-1-2-3-4-5-6&m=1)’s head jerked up, less at the screams of his stubby-legged forgetender and more at the thunderous bellow that came from the Hewn City behind him. He saw [Neckbeard](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Fflightrising.com%2Fmain.php%3Fp%3Dlair%26id%3D2740%26tab%3Ddragon%26did%3D10597704&t=NTNiMTExNDI2N2M5YjViMGFhNWQ2N2VjMWE0ZThiODVlM2NkMDEzYixUeVoycUQyNw%3D%3D&b=t%3A5oAdtInnFTRQVU0-95271w&p=https%3A%2F%2Fominouspotato.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F142970669420%2Fprophet-of-dusk-prologue-1-2-3-4-5-6&m=1), canvas bag of treasure bleeding gold coins, hurl himself down the steep cliff face, barely braking his slide.

“PICK ME UP! PICK ME UP!” Neckbeard screamed, wincing as he sunk chest-deep into the water. One of the larger Imperials shrugged and flew out to grab the Snapper, who kept his wings curled around the money bag.

“We’re leaving! We’re out!” he declared as soon as his feet touched the deck.

“Whoa, whoa,” Quicksilver interjected, “what the devil made that sound?”

“I don’t know and I’m not in the mood to find out! I didn’t feel right about them Guardians and Mirrors and – and Ridgeback, sorry cap’n – and then they started – they’re dead! I got the money, I ran for it, and – Cap’n, please, y’got that look in yer eye…”

“[Spitfire](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Fflightrising.com%2Fmain.php%3Fp%3Dlair%26id%3D2740%26tab%3Ddragon%26did%3D2731661&t=YmNiYjQ2ODBlMTcwY2U5MTkzYTAzMmU2Y2UyZTdlM2E1Nzc3NTI4NixUeVoycUQyNw%3D%3D&b=t%3A5oAdtInnFTRQVU0-95271w&p=https%3A%2F%2Fominouspotato.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F142970669420%2Fprophet-of-dusk-prologue-1-2-3-4-5-6&m=1),” Quicksilver addressed the large Imperial. “Y’ready t’ make some booms?”

Neckbeard’s groans were drowned out by the cheer from the crew, jumping or flying out of the boat and charging towards the next great adventure.

* * *

“Did you hear that?” [Pup](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Fflightrising.com%2Fmain.php%3Fp%3Dlair%26id%3D2740%26tab%3Ddragon%26did%3D1612761&t=MDJkMDQxY2I2MWFmMzkxZWI1ZjRiZDRkYmQ2MTRlNzRmZDhjOTUxZSxUeVoycUQyNw%3D%3D&b=t%3A5oAdtInnFTRQVU0-95271w&p=https%3A%2F%2Fominouspotato.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F142970669420%2Fprophet-of-dusk-prologue-1-2-3-4-5-6&m=1) whimpered. His usual cool demeaner had been broken by Sentinel’s betrayal, and [Dusty](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Fflightrising.com%2Fmain.php%3Fp%3Dlair%26id%3D2740%26tab%3Ddragon%26did%3D29209&t=OTdhYjFlZTMyMjM4OGVkNjYwMWY5Y2VmZTZmYTMyMGIxY2NmMzRhOCxUeVoycUQyNw%3D%3D&b=t%3A5oAdtInnFTRQVU0-95271w&p=https%3A%2F%2Fominouspotato.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F142970669420%2Fprophet-of-dusk-prologue-1-2-3-4-5-6&m=1) had been more protective than ever.

“No,” said [Glowwyrm](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Fflightrising.com%2Fmain.php%3Fp%3Dlair%26id%3D2740%26tab%3Ddragon%26did%3D9536273&t=NzM4ZDM3YjYxMDgzOTQ0YjFjYjA3MmQ0MDczMTY4MDc4OWNjNGY5NSxUeVoycUQyNw%3D%3D&b=t%3A5oAdtInnFTRQVU0-95271w&p=https%3A%2F%2Fominouspotato.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F142970669420%2Fprophet-of-dusk-prologue-1-2-3-4-5-6&m=1), even though she had. She continued looking out through the gap in the ruins, comforted by the pacing of [Vortex](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Fflightrising.com%2Fmain.php%3Fp%3Dlair%26id%3D2740%26tab%3Ddragon%26did%3D2018412&t=NjI4NWFjYTY2YjE0MjlmM2UxMTg0ZGMxNDJhNjYzNDg0Njc5ZWVmNCxUeVoycUQyNw%3D%3D&b=t%3A5oAdtInnFTRQVU0-95271w&p=https%3A%2F%2Fominouspotato.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F142970669420%2Fprophet-of-dusk-prologue-1-2-3-4-5-6&m=1) and [Lector](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Fflightrising.com%2Fmain.php%3Fp%3Dlair%26id%3D2740%26tab%3Ddragon%26did%3D69698&t=ZmIzN2NmZTVhN2EzZTMxZTU0OTdkMWU2MmVmNGY5ZjE2OTEzZmNjZCxUeVoycUQyNw%3D%3D&b=t%3A5oAdtInnFTRQVU0-95271w&p=https%3A%2F%2Fominouspotato.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F142970669420%2Fprophet-of-dusk-prologue-1-2-3-4-5-6&m=1) outside. She had been hoping for something to happen – that Sentinel would come back, safe and sound and ready to get frustrated with her antics as usual, and they would go back into the pocket and live happily ever after. But she had seen the bauble smashed, and she had buried it their first night, a funeral to the past they had to leave behind.

But now something had happened. There were screams and scary sounds and a roar… and something had snapped a twig near their hiding place.

Suddenly, Lector hissed. Glowwyrm charged out of the makeshift lair, turned the corner and –

– came face-to-face with [a beautiful golden Guardian](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Fflightrising.com%2Fmain.php%3Fp%3Dlair%26id%3D2740%26tab%3Ddragon%26did%3D17731940&t=NWY1NmZhN2JhMGVmNTJiNWJjOTg4NWY0Y2U4Yzc1OGQ0ZmI4ZmFmYyxUeVoycUQyNw%3D%3D&b=t%3A5oAdtInnFTRQVU0-95271w&p=https%3A%2F%2Fominouspotato.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F142970669420%2Fprophet-of-dusk-prologue-1-2-3-4-5-6&m=1).

“I’m not –” she started, but was interrupted by a spine-chilling howl.

“Sentinel,” Glowwyrm whispered, and took off sprinting in that direction. She ignored Vortex yelling, “Glowwyrm, wait!” and the golden Guardian wincing but keeping stride with her. She only knew one thing:

She had to find him.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter-specific cws: violence, bone stuff

The clouds swirled over the ruins, an impenetrable gloom settling over the area. Overhead, Shatterbone Vultures circled in slow, deliberate loops. They awaited the moment when the creature, blindly crouching below, would move away from the carcasses strewn over the ground. It was disturbingly quiet, the only sound the creak and howl of the wind whistling through empty bones.

All of this information was cataloged as [an Imperial](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Fflightrising.com%2Fmain.php%3Fdragon%3D2731661&t=MjI1OWI5MmZjNzE1YTFiMzg3NTcwZjM2YzE1ZGQ2NzQxODJhYjZjMyxWejc3d29Xag%3D%3D&b=t%3A5oAdtInnFTRQVU0-95271w&m=1) broke the cloud bank. Spitfire flew quietly with his burden, an enormous, sparking contraption. Flames shot out of it occasionally, and he grinned. Spitting a grenade from his mouth at the creature below, he dropped the bomb and rose high into the sky.

The explosion was loud and satisfying. As the smoke cleared, a crater and a lot of bone fragments were all that were left of the monster. Spitfire gave himself a small fist pump, preparing to fly back towards the ship, when he noticed the bones begin to twitch.

Fragments crept closer. Jawbone met jawbone, rib met rib, and Spitfire’s triumphant grin melted off his face as, painfully slowly, the monster reassembled itself. Just before the face was complete, teeth flying into their sockets, Spitfire fled.

“Explosives aren’t doin’ it, captain,” he reported to the advancing crew. “We’re gonna have to try the old fashioned way.”

“So be it,” [Quicksilver ](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Fflightrising.com%2Fmain.php%3Fdragon%3D2170063&t=NmUwNGNiZjc4MmVkOTAzMTNkODRjMmEzYWJhNjBjYTk0NWM5YTQyMSxWejc3d29Xag%3D%3D&b=t%3A5oAdtInnFTRQVU0-95271w&m=1)replied, drawing his cutlass.

* * *

[The crew](http://www1.flightrising.com/lair/2740/1414540) charged together, giving a battle cry. Visitor weaved in and out of the monster’s ribs, slashing with his cleaver and cackling with forgotten glee. Quicksilver and his ward, Stormflash, fought back-to-back, taking it in turns dodging the heavy bones slamming into the ground. Amazon flittered high above, quick and nimbly slashing at joints with her staff and sending a Contuse into the monster’s eye. Phantom let out a mighty grunt as he hurled Rydian high, and she slithered and scrambled, letting out hisses and biting whatever she encountered. Sarin and the Swamp Witch crouched together, eyes closed, summoning a gale that whipped the cloth fragments like banners. Even Neckbeard contributed, giving one toe bone a hard smash with his hammer.

The monster fought hard against this sudden onslaught. It writhed, catching Visitor off-balance and bouncing him off its spine. Stormflash jabbed upwards and just caught the tail bones before they slammed into Quicksilver. The Swamp Witch redirected her efforts, attempting to shield her friends, while Sarin chanted determinedly with his eyes closed. It was no use. The Rogues were losing.

There was one member of their crew that stood, carefully watching the movements of the others. [The Siren](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Fflightrising.com%2Fmain.php%3Fdragon%3D10176419&t=OTk1MzNhYThkM2NkYTBkYWJlODkzNzYwM2E2ZThiNWJlMjIxMzYyYixWejc3d29Xag%3D%3D&b=t%3A5oAdtInnFTRQVU0-95271w&m=1) saw her moment. Her eyes glowed an intense pink. “Move,” she instructed, and despite the ferocious wind her crewmates heard and hastily fled. With a roar, The Siren’s claws glowed bright red, and she brought down an Eliminate onto her opponent.

There was a rumble. The ground shook. When the dust cleared, the crew looked up at the enemy. The Spirit remained standing. If anything, it was angrier.

Quicksilver looked around at his beloved Rogues. “To the last?”

They nodded.

The fighting recommenced.

* * *

[Haunt](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Fflightrising.com%2Fmain.php%3Fdragon%3D17664522&t=NGRlZjc0NzdlYjg0MDUwMDM3ODA2ZTE2NWVhNmJlZDg0OTM2NDI1OCxWejc3d29Xag%3D%3D&b=t%3A5oAdtInnFTRQVU0-95271w&m=1) slipped away from the chaos quietly, Ex slung over his back and barely breathing. He appreciated the distraction that the pirates were causing, but that was it - he had worked with the undead enough to know when fighting wasn’t going to work. The body was already inhabited. He had a new goal now.

He had to find the source of the thing’s power.

He had to kill the other Skydancer.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter-specific cws: violence, dragon death, body horror

“Wait. Please.”

[Glowwyrm](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Fflightrising.com%2Fmain.php%3Fdragon%3D9536273&t=MWFmODhhNGZkNjdhM2E3MTE0NzE3MWQ0YjUzNzhlNzYyNTljZmEwYyxBcnJmVFQzUg%3D%3D&b=t%3A5oAdtInnFTRQVU0-95271w&m=1) sprinted on, ignoring [the golden Guardian](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Fflightrising.com%2Fmain.php%3Fp%3Dlair%26id%3D2740%26tab%3Ddragon%26did%3D17731940&t=ZDFhOGZjOTNmYzgzMDZlNWQwYTg2ZTNmZmYxM2VlNDRlYzkzNWViYyxBcnJmVFQzUg%3D%3D&b=t%3A5oAdtInnFTRQVU0-95271w&m=1)’s radiance and pleas. She only knew that she had to find her mentor, Sentinel. Something bad and unnatural had happened to him. She should have seen the warning signs. She should have discussed it with Vortex. She should have –

“I can help you find him.”

“You can’t help me do anything!” Glowwyrm spat. Her toes gripped the cold earth, churning the blackened soil. “I failed.  _I_ failed.” She ran harder, panting, until she had to stop for the stitch in her side. “It was our job to keep them safe. Even when he couldn’t… I could have. I can’t even keep him safe.”

“I lost someone too.” Glowwyrm didn’t even hear her approach. Her voice was even quieter than her footfalls.

Tears blurred her vision. “Stop following me!”

“I’m not following you,” she replied, surprised. “I’m following… something, and I think it’s taking me in the same direction it’s taking you.”

Glowwyrm looked up at the Guardian. She shone with a glow that was familiar; but as if she had seen it reversed. This was the light to Sentinel’s darkness, complimentary, as if both halves independently were an echo of their power together. She regarded the Guardian warily.

“Who did you lose?”

The Guardian sagged slightly, and then limped on.

* * *

[Haunt](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Fflightrising.com%2Fmain.php%3Fdragon%3D17664522&t=ZGQwZThlODJkNWFmZTVmYzBkZjM4ZmU3ODM4MmRlYTZhMzRiNzZkMyxBcnJmVFQzUg%3D%3D&b=t%3A5oAdtInnFTRQVU0-95271w&m=1) grunted and shuffled [the limp Skydancer](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Fflightrising.com%2Fmain.php%3Fdragon%3D16129172&t=MzhiYWE5ZTcwNDU0MzEyOWYwNWRjNWY2OWNlZjc2YzhjNGU5YmI5NSxBcnJmVFQzUg%3D%3D&b=t%3A5oAdtInnFTRQVU0-95271w&m=1)’s weight around. He was tracking the shimmer of energy in the air, the feeling that something was amiss, that usually signalled some kind of dark activity. He was in his element, hunting.

Something about the path niggled at his memory. The Hewn City was familiar territory, but he had a hazy memory of this specific location. It felt, even, as if the memory were not his own; he felt a shock as he realized that the corrupted Skydancer he was tracking was losing parts of himself. It wouldn’t be long until he was a mere husk of his former self.

His grimace hardened. He didn’t have much time.

* * *

“What’s your name?”

The Guardian hesitated. “Rune.” She felt the light tugging her painfully onwards, and she was dragging her feet towards something that was perhaps a dragon. Perhaps her mate’s killer? Her heart leapt - with excitement, with sorrow, or with determination? She wasn’t herself sure. “What’s… his name?”

The Tundra answered between clenched teeth. “It was Sentinel. I’m not sure he has a name any more.”

_Sentinel._  Rune focused on that name over the pain.

“Wait.” The Tundra stopped suddenly, sniffing along the ground. She paused, and Rune crouched to the ground. It was a Skydancer print in the soft mud, splotched with spots of oily material. The Tundra moved to dip her claw into it.

“Don’t!” Rune held her back before she could touch it. The oil writhed, trying to reach towards them. “Don’t touch it. I’m an alchemist. This isn’t natural.”

Just as she was considering bottling some for future analysis, she felt a sharp tug on her body. At the same time, the Tundra took a sharp breath. Rune looked up.

It had been an ambush.

* * *

Haunt heard sounds of a struggle and dumped Ex off his back, hurrying forward and drawing his sword. It glowed with a faint icy light, warning him of strong energy ahead. He definitely believed it.

But he faltered when he saw the dragon he had been tracking. It had once been a Skydancer, but it was almost unrecognizable. Black slime oozed from its mouth, dripping oily tar onto the ruins. The goo also spurted from its wings and scales, boils bursting with it as it panted. It regarded the two dragons in front of it with menace, letting out a low-pitched hum that could almost be called a growl. It raised a paw full of disturbingly long fingers, and paused.

“Sentinel, wait!” The Tundra had tears in her eyes, but was standing strong and resolute.

From behind him, Haunt heard Ex breathe, letting out an unheard whisper. The tension was palpable.

And then Sentinel sprang.

The Tundra did something to the air around her, and they were standing somewhere else. Haunt recognized that magic as the same that he tracked, that slipped into unused bodies and stopped the dead from staying so. This was his prey.

He launched into action, slashing his sword towards Sentinel. But the corrupted Skydancer was so fast, almost disappearing and reappearing, bending in impossible shapes to avoid his slashes and jabs. Haunt was equally nimble, circling the smaller dragon and ducking the claws.

“Don’t hurt him!” the Tundra yelled, throwing herself between the two. It was a three-way battle now, the apparent necromancer slashing at Haunt while parrying Sentinel’s blows. The Guardian escaped Haunt’s gaze, but then he caught her with her head bowed towards Ex’s. Ex was whispering urgently, unseeing, as blood dripped from his mouth.

The three squared off, panting.

“You cannot protect your creation,” Haunt ground out. He rarely spoke.

“No…  _he_  created  _me._  He’s the closest thing I have to a father, and –”

“He is darkness!” Ex yelped.

That was enough convincing for Haunt. He plunged his sword into the heart of the dripping monster.

The Tundra’s scream went unheard above the thundercrash. Then it was eerily silent.

“But  _she is light,”_  Ex continued in a whisper.

The Guardian walked towards Sentinel. Nobody else could move. Time moved very slowly, or stopped entirely.

“And you cannot have light without darkness, or darkness without light. They are two parts of a whole. Chaos, and Truth. They have been without each other for too long, and the world has forgotten how they once were joined.”

The Guardian put her paw on Sentinel’s chest, and the world exploded. Yellow and purple beams of light melded with each other, performing a dance, or perhaps a battle, around the two dragons. A whirlwind picked up, whipping Haunt’s wing tatters and the Tundra’s fur.

“They each are too powerful for one dragon to possess alone. The balance is being righted. The world is being restored.”

Far away, the crew of the Rogues, exhausted and badly injured, watched the creature roar, expecting a blast of light and then nothingness - but instead saw it fall and shatter into the tiniest fragments of dust.

“The energy no longer needs a vessel. It has balance.”

Above the heads of a hidden Clan Naga, the gloom began to clear. Pup had been mourning his lost Tundra clanmate, although he had not had the words to describe it. Dusty held him closer. “It’s over, son. It’s over.”

And back in a path between the ruins, a battered Skydancer slowly bled, as the Tundra held his face between her paws. A golden Guardian, feeling no pain in her skin any longer, felt an ebbing tug towards the dragon.

“Fix this!” the Tundra screamed at Haunt. “You caused this, so make it better!”

Haunt stared, and gave the slightest shake of his head.

She head-butted him in the chest. He took a step back, but did not come back forward. Shaking, she lay down next to him.

“Please. Don’t die. We need you to protect the Clan.”

Sentinel smiled at her, lifting his head slightly, and wrapped one paw around hers. Then his antenna quivered, he closed his eyes, and Ex gasped.

They lay there with him for a long time. Haunt took Ex with him and left. He could tell that Soul Smoking and all the hunting that went along with it was a whole other world from what they were used to, the gaunt Skydancer, the Tundra with her nose in his mane trying to memorize his scent, and the Guardian with her wing outstretched to protect them from the quiet rain.


	11. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter-specific cws: dragon death mention

[Glowwyrm](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Fflightrising.com%2Fmain.php%3Fdragon%3D9536273&t=Yjk5N2I1YzIyYjkyYWE2ZTBkNWNjZDEzNzQ2MjlhODlmNDBhNGZiZSxGMmxsbnRScg%3D%3D&b=t%3A5oAdtInnFTRQVU0-95271w&m=1) sat alone, tail wrapped neatly around her haunches, at the top of the Beacon’s hill. The Rogues, carefully tended by their captain’s home clan, were cleared to take sail once again, and were being sent off by the majority of Clan Naga lower down the cliff. Glowwyrm’s eyes slid past them, to the sun-dappled sea far beyond.

They had been granted territory close to where the Lightweaver herself was said to live, by pillars and swooping cliffs and pine forest carpeted in needles, and even a small lake with food-rich mud. Glowwyrm was the protector of her clan, but she did not hide them in a pocket universe. The marvel in the eyes of her clanmates, after their fear, could not be cut off again by a never-changing landscape. She was barely using her Chaos magic, except to hide Sentinel’s body where Soul Smokers would never be able to find it.

She felt a familiar presence approach and let out a sigh. [Rune](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Fflightrising.com%2Fmain.php%3Fdragon%3D17731940&t=M2I2NDg3NjNhNTk2MGU1MGRkYjRlMWE5YzFlNGU1YWE5NWRmZjczZCxGMmxsbnRScg%3D%3D&b=t%3A5oAdtInnFTRQVU0-95271w&m=1) had not spoken much, but had been by her side since her loss. The clan had accepted her, as she led them towards a place she had dreamed of since she saw it glimmering from the Hewn City long ago.

“You know,” Rune began. “I never… never had a Charge. I never knew the Search except from my mate’s brave and pointless quest. I was afraid of a Charge, of being tied to something and then losing it. I even - I even heard a rumour that the monster was someone’s Charge.”

Glowwyrm didn’t reply.

“The clan - I don’t know if Skydancers can feel that sort of powerful attachment - but the clan was his Charge, even if he didn’t understand it in that way. And he left that to you.” She paused. “And by protecting it, you’re protecting him, too. His memory. It’s a good thing.”

She didn’t move.

“And I’m still grieving, not only my mate but that light that was in me, that  _was_ me, even though it hurt me, it was something I lost. We both lost. And I think we need each other right now.”

She turned to look at Rune through her helmet.

Glowwyrm murmured, “This is a new beginning built on old endings. I suppose we can start with each other.”

And so the two sat side by side on the cliff, and thought of things yet to come.


End file.
